


Eavesdropping

by superboysandtheirtoys



Category: Teen Titans (Comics), Young Justice (Comics)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Anal Fingering, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superboysandtheirtoys/pseuds/superboysandtheirtoys
Summary: This, Conner realized, had been a mistake.A massive, terrible, “can never take it back” kind of mistake.





	Eavesdropping

**Author's Note:**

> Canon is for the unimaginative or uninspired.
> 
> Takes place sometime during the Teen Titans comic timeline. Kon died and came back, Tim is Red Robin, everyone is alive and happy and (if I have anything to say about it) gay. Pre-New 52 because who has the time?
> 
> Inspired by the art of https://ryripeachy.tumblr.com/

This, Conner realized, had been a mistake.

A massive, terrible, “can never take it back” kind of mistake.

It had all started innocently enough. He had been sitting on the back porch in Kansas, staring up at the dark night sky, counting stars and slowly dying of boredom. He knew it was rude to eavesdrop, as Clark called it. He’d say, “humans expect privacy, and that means we have the burden of responsibility to give it to them.”

But there were only so many nights he could spend like this--thinking about nothing in particular, listening to the soft sounds of the farm around him. Krypto snoring on the porch beside him, wind rustling quietly through the fields, and Ma listening to the radio (“the wireless,” she called it) while she baked in the kitchen. The peace, the unbearable stillness of it all, seeping into him, an itch settling in under his skin. He wanted to be doing something,  _ anything _ , to be with Cassie, Bart, and Tim. He missed his  _ team, _ and sometimes just hearing them, knowing they were out there and okay, was enough to calm the ache in his bones.

There was a question of how much of it was simple paranoia--how dying and coming back probably had  _ something _ to do with it--but that wasn’t something Conner was in the mood to worry about right now. 

And so he stretched his hearing, allowing himself just a few brief moments of “eavesdropping,” listening to the distant echoes of Cassie and Bart going about their lives (and again there was that nagging question of why it was such a comfort to know they were, in fact, simply alive). Tim was harder to pinpoint in the cacophony that was Gotham City, but Conner focused, and was finally able to isolate the sounds of his best friend. His confidant. His  _ Robin. _

That was when he had heard it.  _ Sobbing. _ The broken, hitched tone of Tim’s voice, and the hushed, confessional whisper of his name.  _ “Conner.” _

He hadn’t consciously moved, but suddenly Conner was airborne, hurtling towards Tim’s voice, and he knew he was flying too low--that the sonic boom he caused when he broke the sound barrier would set off a few car alarms--but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Something was wrong. Tim was hurt, or worse, and Conner  _ had _ to get there in time, would never be able to forgive himself if he  _ didn’t, _ and within a few seconds he was hovering outside the apartment building Tim’s voice was coming from. The place was all clean, straight lines and glass, a modern exclamation mark amidst the crumbling, gothic buildings around it. Conner used his x-ray vision, ready to tear the building apart if he had to, and had just pinpointed the crumpled, writhing form of his best friend, when it struck him.

This, Conner realized, had been a mistake.

A massive, terrible, “can never take it back” kind of mistake.

_ “F-fuck, Conner,”  _ Tim whimpered, and Conner was frozen. Could feel the sound wrenching at him, curling around the base of his spine. 

Tim was naked. Laid out on his bed, on his side with his legs curled up to his chest, and it was impossible for Conner not to notice just how achingly hard Tim was. One of Tim's hands was curled around his slender cock, and the other was behind his back, pressing  _ into  _ himself, and fuck. He was  _ fucking _ himself with his fingers, glistening with sweat, writhing and moaning and  _ whimpering _ Conner's name--

_ "Please," _ Tim breathed, voice muffled by his pillow, working his fingers in and out of himself. The hand on his cock moved languid and slow, stroking all the way down to the base and back up. " _ Please, god, Kon f-fuck me..." _

Fuck, he was  _ begging,  _ Conner thought. Tim’s fingers curled inside himself, and he gasped, and Conner flew as hard as he could. Up, away, trying to get far enough that he couldn’t hear the strangled noise Tim made as he  _ came-- _

Conner landed somewhere, an empty mountain range, and took a deep, steadying breath. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, hands resting on a rockface in front of him as he panted. The wind whispered through the trees around him, and somewhere leaves rustled along the forest floor. Some small, probably furry thing peered at him from a tree branch, before scurrying back to its nest. It was cold, uncomfortably so, but Conner ignored it. Needed to breathe. Needed to clear his head.

“Fuck, shit,  _ goddammit, FUCK!”  _ The rocks crumbled to dust in Conner’s hands as he clenched them into fists.

He tried and failed to ignore the aching hardness in his pants. Heat was pooling in the pit of his stomach, and Conner clenched his eyes closed, trying desperately  _ not  _ to think of what it would feel like to slip himself into the velvety heat that Tim’s fingers had been occupying. Trying not to think about how Tim might let him, might  _ want  _ him to, might just  _ beg _ the way he had been while he was getting himself  _ off. _

_ “Fuck,” _ Kon whimpered, and clumsily pulled his cock out of his jeans. He was so  _ hard, _ thick and twitching and  _ leaking _ , and  _ of course _ he’d noticed how attractive Tim was. It would be impossible not to appreciate the lithe, leanly muscled body of his best friend, not to mention his firm,  _ perfect _ ass, the ass that Tim had been  _ fucking _ with his  _ fingers-- _

_ “Please, god, Kon f-fuck me,” _ Tim had moaned, and Kon replayed the scene in his head as he stroked himself. He thought of Tim’s hard cock in his hand, the fingers curling in Tim’s ass, and Kon gasped.

Kon was already close. Embarrassingly so--he’d hardly gotten a few good strokes in before he felt his cock start to twitch, heat churning at the base of his cock. He roughly pulled his foreskin back as he came,  _ loudly _ , panting and moaning Tim’s name. 

_ “Fuck, Tim, oh god, FUCK,” _ Kon grunted, painting the rocks and the ground in front of him with his cum. His legs shook, and it took all he had not to slump down onto the ground. He stared blankly at the mess of cum pooling at his feet, shame and guilt coming over him in waves. The forest around him was deafeningly silent.

Conner hastily tucked his cock back into his jeans, and made sure he hadn’t made too much of a mess of himself before he took off. He had no idea where he’d ended up, someplace isolated and remote, and it took a while of orbiting to get his bearings. A few hundred miles from Gotham. Further from Smallville, and he took the flight back slow. Ma would know something was wrong. He hoped she’d be in bed before he got back--he didn’t know if he could lie well enough to keep her from worrying.

Conner landed back at the farm, and decided to sneak in through his window rather than risk running into anyone on his way back in. Images flashed through his mind of what he’d just seen and done, echoes of the heat, electricity and guilt shooting up his spine as he crawled into his bedroom. It was a mess in here.  _ What else was new? _

Quietly as he was able to, Conner snuck into the bathroom across the hall to shower. He had to wash the night off of himself. He ran the water too hot, steam billowing around him while he scrubbed himself clean. He wasn’t sure how long he spent, certainly longer than was normal, before he exited the room with a towel wrapped around his waist. The farm around him was thankfully quiet, everyone seemed to have gone to bed already.

Kon let the towel fall to the floor when he walked into his room, locking the door behind him. He threw himself gracelessly onto the bed, burying his face in the pillow and trying as hard as he could  _ not _ to think. It should come naturally to him, as Tim would probably say.

Thinking about what Tim would say didn’t help. Conner tossed fitfully and tried to force himself to sleep. To drift peacefully into unthinking bliss, and leave the mess he had made to be thought about in the morning. 

It wasn’t until the sun was peeking over the horizon that Conner finally fell into a restless, fitful sleep.


End file.
